Living Lightning
by Xx Kiamii xX
Summary: Harry wakes up in a new world, child-sized, and quite possibly about to be forced into a new journey unlike any he's ever been through. Frodo doesn't know what to think about this man-child with magic that is nothing like Gandalf's. The folk of Middle Earth are about to get a look at just what Harry can do, even though he looks like a kid. -Rewrite of Ring Child, Post-Both Series.
1. Just Harry

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. J.R.R Tolkein owns LOTR and J.K. Rowling owns HP. I am merely the original fanfiction author to the formerly popular story, _Ring Child_ (HPxLOTR). Should you recognize passages from either HP or LOTR, then simply refer it to yourself as an excerpt from either literary work. I will occasionally be using Tolkein's work almost word for word in some areas so that the wondrous descriptions and talk he gave in his writing is not muddied up by my attempts. This is not for monetary value nor anything other than entertainment to a fanfiction world. So do not judge on the basis of recognizing Tolkein's words. I do not claim them as mine.

**Pairings: **If any, they would be the original pairings of both fandoms. I am not romance-heavy in any story I write for some reason.

**Warnings: **There is the occasional **swearing** and **violence** to be mentioned in this story, but the fluff should more than outweigh this tidbit. The more major warning is that both stories are heavily **spoiled** by this story, as I have read both of them to the best of my abilities. Therefore, do not waste your time criticizing my lack of information mentioned or not mentioned. I was not a terribly immediate fan of the Lord of the Rings series, but I do like the books and movies nonetheless.

**Author: **Xx Kiamii xX

Ring Child Rewrite - Living Lightning - Chapter One "Just Harry"

* * *

**Setting (1): **The Hill at Bag End. April of 3018

"_Three Rings for the Elven-kinds under the sky,  
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,  
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,  
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.  
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie." _(2)

Gandalf paused, taking a deep breath before he continued onward in a lower octave than how he was speaking before: "The Master-ring, the One Ring to rule them all. This is the One Ring that he lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of his power. He greatly desires it—but he must not get it. Darkness would befall should he accomplish such a thing."

No one spoke for a minute or two, Harry saying not a word. He sat beside the elderly-appearing Istar, his green eyes studying the hobbit before him with a slight frown on his cherub face. From what he had heard thus far, Frodo was in a situation akin to his own former life. One similar to fighting Voldemort to save his own world. Fear crossed Frodo Baggin's face before he stammered in reply. "This ring! How, how on earth did it come to me?"

"Ah!" said Gandalf with a shake of his head. "That is a very long story. The beginnings lie back in the Black Years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If I were to tell you all that tale, we should still be sitting here when spring had passed into winter." Harry allowed a slight amused smirk cross his lips before it vanished as Frodo looked over. The 17-year-old simply inclined his head, as if wondering what Frodo would do. He had no doubt the tale would indeed be very long, though it would be nice to know how it came into Frodo's hands. He was only aware of a few things that Gandalf told Frodo, after all.

"But last night I told you of Sauron the Great, the Dark Lord." Recalled Gandalf, glancing down at the child sitting at his feet. Harry looked up at him, feeling the stare, and blinked. He had arrived here just after Gandalf had told the tale to Frodo so it seemed, for he could not remember this Sauron character. "The rumors that you have heard are true: he has indeed arisen again and left his hold in Mirkwood and returned to his ancient fastness in the Dark Tower of Mordor. That name even you hobbits have heard of, like a shadow on the borders of old stories. Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again." Harry's eyes narrowed as he heard Gandalf speak of a supposedly common place.

"Mordor?" repeated Harry, unsure of such a place. While he hadn't the foggiest of anything else Gandalf spoke of, the fact that Gandalf spoke of a place supposedly common amongst everyone spiked his curiosity. "Dark lord?"

"Aye, little one. Sauron the Great is of darkness here on Middle Earth. He resides in a place few have returned from, a location dubbed Mordor." Explained the wizard. Harry nodded, thinking to himself. So he was in Middle Earth. Of the Shire, if he could remember Frodo's words correctly. Another world then? That seemed highly plausible, what with how everything he knew was quite different. Then again, nothing was making sense exactly since the moment he'd awoken in this place last night…

* * *

**Setting: **Flashback: A night before

The sight before him was one he was not expecting –never in the entirety of his seventeen years of life had he ever thought he'd encounter anything of this magnitude— and Harry James Potter had experienced enough in his life to be able to say this with confidence. Then again, this was the boy who had faced a dark lord before he could even walk.

He was in a house, that wasn't unusual in itself, but this house was by no means of normal. In fact, he could compare this place to two wizarding homes that he'd been in once upon a time. Much like the burrow, it spoke of warm years and well-used living. Books splattered tables with its spine clearly opened many times. The kitchen, from where he could see, was obviously the favorite room of the household, whoever owned this house. Apart from the Weasley's abode, however, this place described a Malfoy with its riches that were found. The golden plate that Harry could see sitting on the table, was one such example. He thought nothing of its size, until he looked over to his left.

His emerald green eyes shot hopefully to the round and large wooden door leading to the exit only to notice a shadow near it. A large shadow, perhaps of Hagrid size –though that could be over-dramatizing the height if he were to be honest. He turned to face the unknown threat and reached for his wand. Hands patted at nothing but cloth, evoking a gasp from his person.

His wand! Where was it? As the youth searched his body, he noticed how close to the ground he was and that he was wearing robes unfamiliar to him. They were a dark black, nothing different, but were trimmed in a shimmering emerald green along the hems. He saw no patches on the robe, but he felt the material to be different than one he usually wore. He couldn't place what the material could be, sadly; he had more pressing matters to attend to.

His hands shot up to his face and he looked at them in horror. A pinky wiggled, showing that they were very much his. Tiny—slightly baby-fat chubby— fingers were all he could see. 'Oh Merlin, I've been shrunk!' Harry bemoaned, wondering what all had been done to him in his unconsciousness. Shrunk, de-aged, or even possibly turned into a creature Harry couldn't tell. The thought didn't sit well in his stomach. He hoped he hadn't been turned into a house-elf! A quick rub at his ears solved that question though and he breathed in relief. One assurance down at least.

An amused hum snapped the young man from his thoughts and Harry glanced upwards at the shadows once more. The shadow shifted before an elderly man stepped forward, surprising Harry with the similarities to one Albus Dumbledore. There were differences though, that he could see. Aged and less elderly-appearing than Dumbledore, as well as grey-haired and very grey in clothing he was. Atop the man's head was a tall pointed grey hat, matching the long grey cloak and accentuated with the odd silver scarf around his neck. Most notable was the long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out to him from under the hat.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, before biting his cheek. Smooth Harry. Possibly irritate the unknown wizard-looking elder before him while defenseless. Nevertheless, the odd looking man chortled in reply.

"Refreshing youth," mused the man. "I, dear little one, am Gandalf the Grey. Your presence upon a hobbit's abode is a curiosity. Perhaps I could be knowledgeable of your name, hmm?" Harry gave him a startled look, unaccustomed to the way the man talked.

"Harry," he finally said. "Harry Potter."

"A last name, you say?" Gandalf gave a slightly surprised look, before his eyes turned thoughtful. Harry raised an eyebrow at the remark, keeping the shock that Gandalf did not know his fame to himself, before shrugging. "Not a hobbit… Nor elfling… Hmm, interesting. A child of man, you are. Yet not entirely… Very interesting."

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, looking at Gandalf with a weird expression. Gandalf caught the look and smiled.

"You're of magic, power running through your blood and veins. A great tremendous power. Unseen by any kind upon Middle Earth." Gandalf said. "I would say close to my own magic, if not for your true appearance, a child of man."

"I am 17, not a child!" Harry replied indignantly, looking up at the man with narrowed eyes. Who was this bloke to be talking about him as such? Gandalf looked at him before smiling.

"Forgive me," chuckled Gandalf, "seventeen indeed. Of partial elvin blood, or even of blood not seen before, you retain. For your physical appearance borderlines four summers at most." (3)

Four…summers? Wait, four years old!? Harry gawked at Gandalf, disbelieving. He knew he was shrunk, but to be below the primary school age was just mortifying. "You're joking," Harry finally said, not falling for this elaborate prank.

"It is not my habit to make such jokes," said Gandalf, pulling forth a pipe to smoke. Harry watched him warily as the man began to puff. "I do say with other concerns the night now lingers on and perhaps we shall alert young Frodo Baggins to your arrival to his little hobbit hole before retiring to bed. Least he panic at your presence. Answers must wait in attention to rest." Gandalf smiled mysteriously before the door opened and Harry turned his attention to someone quite short, only just at his new height he could see.

"Gandalf, we seem to have run out of—who is this?" Frodo interrupted himself at the sight of a child, a _child of man_ standing there before his old friend. For there was no other possible race that this boy could be. Harry glanced at the newcomer only to do a double take. Frodo, as Gandalf had called him, wore no shoes though he need not to wear any. They were almost as give away that he was no mere man as was his face upon his short body. A man's face. Did Harry look as such too? No, Gandalf had said he looked four. This must have been a hobbit, the creature Gandalf had noted earlier to him. At least, he was guessing that was what Frodo was.

"What are you?" asked Harry.

"I," indignantly replied the short man, "am I hobbit! I ask again, who might you be?"

"Harry," the wizard said, leaving off his last name after Gandalf's reaction.

"Very well, Harry. What business have you in my home?" the hobbit asked curiously, his guard easing at the very fact Gandalf was merely watching in content. Harry looked at the elderly wizard questioningly.

"I don't know. I was sleeping when I woke up here." Harry answered honestly. Where, he was, he did not know in specifics. "Where am I exactly?"

"Bag End of the Shire," proudly answered Frodo, "and I am Frodo Baggins." Harry opened his mouth to inquire about this Bag End, and if he knew how to get back to England, when Gandalf spoke once more after a long draw on his pipe.

"I say we retire to bed before anymore questioning." Gandalf invoked before they continued talking. Harry looked at him strangely, but decided to take heed. Frodo showed him to one of the rooms and left him to get a bit of rest, but Harry could not sleep that night. Where was Hermione? Or Ron? Where was _he_?

* * *

**Setting: **Back to the present

"My dear Frodo!" exclaimed Gandalf, making Harry jump back to the present time and place. He shot Gandalf an irritated look at the loud remark. "Hobbits are really amazing creatures, as I have said before. You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you at a pinch. But Bilbo made no mistake in choosing his heir, though he little thought how important it would prove. I am afraid you are right. The Ring will not be able to stay hidden in the Shire much longer; and for your own sake, as well as for others, you will have to go, and leave the name of Baggins behind you. That name will not be safe to have, outside the Shire or in the Wild. I will give you a travelling name now. When you go, go as Mr. Underhill.

But I don't think you need go alone. Not if you know anyone you can trust, and who would be willing to go by your side—and that you would be willing to take into unknown perils. But if you look for a companion, be careful in choosing! And be careful of what you say, even to your closest friends! The enemy has many spies and many ways of hearing." Gandalf suddenly stopped, as if to listen to something. Harry forced himself up to stand as the wizard made his way to one side of the window with Frodo and Harry watching. How long had he been thinking, anyways? Judging by Frodo's face, something else had been brought up that Harry had missed out on with his day dreaming.

'Potter you fool,' Harry scolded himself, having missed something possibly of importance. Turning his attention to Gandalf, he watched as the elderly man tugged something before a curly head popped up into the window, his ear in Gandalf's clutches.

"Well, well, bless my beard!" said Gandalf. "Sam Gamgee is it? Now what may you be doing?"

"Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!" said Sam. "Nothing! Leastways I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me." He picked up a pair of garden shears to present to them. Harry recalled the many times he used those tools, under the Dursley's windows to garden, with a shudder. At 17, he'd never have to see those blundering relatives again… but would he get to see his friends again, with him clearly so far away from home? Harry chose not to dwell on this.

"How long have you been eavesdropping?" Gandalf was asking.

"Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, begging your pardon. There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact." Pleaded Sam. Harry snorted, blushing under the looks the three shot him_. 'Well it was funny to me at least,_' Harry defended mentally. These people talked so odd in his opinion, he almost had a hard time understanding them!

"A child?" asked Sam in awe. "Of man, is he?" Harry had no clue how this Sam could tell immediately what he was, but guessed the fact his short black hair left him a bit exposed and helped give him away.

"Never you mind. What have you heard, and why did you listen?" Gandalf interrogated. Harry saw Sam catch the annoyed look on the man's face and the hobbit paled. Gandalf didn't look that intimidating, but Harry supposed to Sam he did. He was, after all, stuck in the wizard's clutches.

"Mr. Frodo, sir!" cried the nervous Sam. "Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honour sir!"

"He won't hurt you," said Frodo, looking for all the world as if he wanted to laugh instead of truly defend his friend from being cursed. Harry's lips quirked upward, seeing that there was no harm to be found in this situation. As the trio continued to talk between them. His eyes drifted over to the fire and he wandered over to it, half-paying attention.

"I heard a deal that I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and fiery mountain and – and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them too, whatever Ted may say—"

"Elves? Dragons?" Harry asked, startled as he heard the creatures from Sam. He turned to face them. "They exist here, too?"

"Here too, you ask?" copied Gandalf, raising a bushy eyebrow. "From whence came you, child? Curious indeed. Yes, yes, they exist. As do many other creatures." He turned back to Sam with a laugh and hauled him in through the window easily. "So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?"

"I did, sir." Sam said with a glance to Harry. "And that's why I choked: which you heard seemingly. I tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset."

"It can't be helped, Sam," said Frodo sadly. "But if you really care about me, you will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of what you've heard here, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes."

Ouch. Harry grimaced at the thread, and at the reminder of snakes. '_Can I still talk to snakes_?' the boy-who-lived mused. He supposed he would have to give it a try later on, when he had time to himself. His hand reached up to his forehead at the reminder of Voldemort's gift, only to pause at the faded lightning bolt scar sitting neatly on his forehead. It was faded, he'd seen the night he defeated the dark wizard, but not gone. Never to leave him.

Sam fell on his knees, clearly terrified of the threat. Gandalf barked at him to get up before telling Sam that he would instead accompany Frodo. Sam shouted with joy before bursting into tears, leaving Gandalf to turn to Harry.

"As for you, we must discuss from whence you came and what to do with you now." Mused Gandalf aloud. Harry's eye twitched at the feeling of being a test subject before nodding. He followed Gandalf out of the room, away from the two hobbits and to a bedroom, clearly made for one of Gandalf's size in the little home. Now that he looked, he could see that Gandalf was a great deal bigger than most of the areas of the house. Did that make Gandalf a giant, or was everything just smaller here?

"You are not a child from this world, are you?" asked Gandalf, a hard look finally forming on his face. Harry shook his head, deciding to be honest. Gandalf had no information on him, and neither did Harry. Perhaps, he should make a deal.

* * *

**Setting: **Two weeks later

"You ought to go quietly, and you ought to go soon," said Gandalf. Harry looked up from where he was beside Frodo, learning to read. While he could understand the common language apparently, he was having trouble reading and writing it. He could remember his own way of speaking and thus drew problems in how to speak similar to his new companions. Frodo had decided to task himself with teaching Harry. In addition to learning the common language, Frodo began to teach him a few other cultural tidbits of this world. Long way from home indeed.

"I know. But it is difficult to do both," Frodo objected. He had made no sign of getting ready to flee his home in the two weeks since Harry had arrived. "If I just vanish like Bilbo, the tale will be all over the Shire in no time. Harry's arrival has already risen a few eyebrows toward me."

"Of course you mustn't vanish!" said Gandalf. "That wouldn't do at all. I said _soon_, not _instantly. _If you can think of any way of slipping out of the Shire without its being generally known, it will be worth a little delay. But you must not delay too long."

"What about the autumn, on or after Our Birthday?" asked Frodo. "I think I could probably make some arrangements by then."

"When is your birthday?" inquired Harry, turning a page in the book before him.

"The 22nd of September. I will be fifty this autumn," answered Frodo. "Perhaps a break from reading? Your birthday comes when, Harry?"

"Alright," agreed Harry, closing the book and handing it to the hobbit before getting up. "And my birthday is July 31st. I will be eighteen." Frodo showed some surprise that Harry was older than he appeared, but said nothing on the matter. His own adopted father had looked very young even though he was over a hundred, after all.

"That will do—but it must not be any later. I am getting very anxious. In the mean-while, do take care, and don't let out any hint of where you are going! And see that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him into a toad. Or teach young Harry to do so for me."

"I know how to turn someone into a toad," argued Harry. "I just do not have my wand."

"A wand?" Gandalf queried. "Perhaps, you would do well with a staff." Frodo walked from the room, heading to the kitchen to prepare a mid-day meal, as Harry learned they call lunch for the most part. It was still called lunch to them, but often they said it as such. These strange phrasings and odd wordings, he had discovered. Hermione would have loved it.

"I don't think a staff would help, but thanks," Harry assured.

"We shall try, at any rate," hummed Gandalf, getting up from his seat to join Frodo in the kitchen. Perhaps to continue their talk of the quest, Harry hadn't a clue. He was thankful to the wizard's aid since coming here, so he didn't push for further information. He didn't want to become part of this journey of Frodo's, but he knew he would most likely join the hobbit at any rate. Gandalf had requested it of him. For a child he may look, his magic would help Frodo in his journey forward once they figured out a way for Harry to use it again. At the reward of Gandalf searching for a way to return Harry home, he would do this for the older wizard.

Roughly a week since then, Gandalf abruptly left only to return a few days later with the means to handcraft a staff for Harry. The staff was small, but rather large for the now child-sized wizard. Magic shot from the staff at Harry's touch, much like his wand had, and they found that they were successful. The staff, as it were to be called instead of a wand, was a thick branch carved and whittled down to be polished and a lusciously straight wood in his hands. Inside contained cores of elements that Gandalf had gathered before finally tying the staff with his own magic to bind the staff.

News had reached the _Ivy Bush _and _Green Dragon_ almost immediately when Frodo did put his plan into action. Gossip sprung up about Frodo selling Bag End, to the Sackville-Bagginses. Harry had learned that they were a nasty bunch of relatives of Frodo's, indeed reminding him of the Dursley family too much that he had to suppress the urge to hex the lot. Frodo had to nearly take Harry's staff from him to prevent such an incident, at any rate.

Information about Frodo's sale wasn't the only thing worthy for mention as of late. Harry's arrival had been kept hidden since he arrived until a week after he came. The hobbits of the Shire had become aware a human little boy was roaming among them with Mr. Baggins. Harry was uncomfortable with all the distrustful stares and amazes gazing upon him, but he ignored it when he went out with Frodo to other places. He'd had worse.

He had been introduced to Merry Brandybuck shortly later in the weeks; Merry being a quirky little hobbit with a mature side that reminded Harry dearly of Hermione for some odd reason. Harry had remained with Gandalf while Frodo selected his home at Crickhollow, the two wizards entertained with learning one another's magic. Harry was fascinated with the ease by which Gandalf could perform his magic, while Gandalf had been merry to learn of Harry's Latin spells and magic-induced movements. They made a promise to exchange one another's spell work when they had more time and means. Harry could seldom cast a spell without collapsing in dead exhaustion for the current moment. Nevertheless, he worked hard on his spell casting once more, trying to recall Latin spells he used in his schooling.

Gandalf stayed in the Shire for over two months. Then one evening, at the end of June, he announced that he was headed off the next morning. "Only for a short while, I hope," he said. "But I am going down beyond the southern borders to get some news, if I can. I have been idle longer than I should."

Harry thought he looked rather worried about something, but did not comment. Gandalf had been rather distracted by something in the month that he stayed with Frodo and Harry.

"Has anything happened?" Frodo asked, setting a tumbler of apple juice before Harry. The boy thanked him and took a sip. While Frodo hosted a number of drinks, Harry preferred the natural sweetness of apple juice after years of pumpkin juice being his preferred beverage.

"Well no; but I have heard something that has made me anxious and needs looking into. If I think it necessary after all for you to get off at once, I shall come back immediately, or at least send word. In the meanwhile stick to your plan; but be more careful than ever, especially of the Ring. Let me impress on you once more: _don't use it!_"

Before he left at dawn, he turned to the two of them. "I should think for now that we keep your magical heritage a secret, young Harry. Your father was by the name of James, you say? Then Harry, son of James, is of how you must introduce yourself. Speak of no magic near any unless dire circumstances are among you. I feel your magic is of too much interest, for any race, to be safe common knowledge."

"Alright," agreed Harry.

"I may be back any day, at the very latest I shall come back for the farewell party. I think after all you may need my company on the Road."

The two watched Gandalf make his way out of the Shire, leaving the wizard and hobbit to their troubled thoughts. Harry had discussed it with Gandalf, of a way back to his home. The Istar was troubled by Harry's entrance to the world, but could not offer a solution for how Harry could return. The two decided that Harry would simply accompany Frodo on the journey, and meet with the elves in Rivendell to decide if anything could be done.

September was passing, Harry's birthday with the hobbit a quiet affair as Harry had asked of Frodo, and there was no sign of Gandalf. The Birthday drew nearer and still Gandalf did not come, or even send word. Bag End began to be busy. Some of Frodo's friends came to stay and help him with the packing: there was Fredegar Bolger –Harry had been amused to hear was called Fatty—and Folco Boffin, as well as Pippin Took –the hobbit took a keen liking to Harry almost immediately—and Merry Brandybuck. Between the hobbits and Harry, they turned the whole place upside-down.

On September 20th two covered carts went off laden to Buckland, conveying furniture and goods that Frodo had not sold to his new home, by way of the Brandywine Bridge. Harry practiced his magic, suffering the exhaustion of using several spells, while Frodo and he waited for Gandalf once more the next day. By Frodo's birthday, there was no sign of Gandalf still. In the evening, Frodo gave his farewell feast to the handful of his helpers, his face troubled and no mood for obnoxious feasting and joy as Harry observed from his spot at the table. He could understand Frodo, truly he could. The hobbit had confided to Harry that he was worried of breaking the news to his friends about leaving. Saying goodbyes were never Harry's favorite as well.

The dining-room was bare—except for the chairs and table— but the food was good, and there was good wine: Frodo's wine had not been included in the sale to the Sackville-Bagginses. Harry had been allowed a cup of the wine, only to immediately find himself in the washroom to dispel the drink.

"Even children of men cannot stand wine. Only hobbit young'uns, I thought," chuckled Merry as Sam went to Harry's aid. Harry shot him a glare, before returning to his seat to drink a cup of water instead. He'd had alcohol before, Harry reminded himself. Just not wine, though he hadn't had Firewhiskey either. Ron would've had a laughing fit at him, if he were to see.

The hobbits sung many songs, and talked of many things they had done together, toasting Bilbo's birthday, and drinking to his and Frodo's health according to the customs. They went out to view the stars, the sky the same to Harry as his own world thankfully, before they retired to bed. The party was over, and Gandalf had not come.

"Perhaps he is tied up?" Harry asked.

"Tied up?" Frodo repeated in alarm, scrambling to his feet with an urgency of panic laced within his tone.

"Sorry!" Harry backtracked, holding up his small hands to keep Frodo there. "I meant to say, he is detained by something holding his attention?"

"Right, right," Frodo said, his relief coming in as he sat back down on the steps with Merry aiding Fatty in taking the remaining luggage away. Harry gave him a sheepish look and plucked at his tunic, the robes he wore when coming here hidden away in the sack beside him. Really, this whole speaking different was getting harder to do than he thought. He scuffed his black shoes on the porch before following Frodo inside.

"We will leave in the evening, should Gandalf not come," Frodo said with a troubled look. Harry nodded and said nothing more on the matter. He set his pack on the floor before walking to the window overseeing Frodo's garden.

"Do you not miss your friends, Harry?" Frodo asked when he saw the boy's faraway look.

"I do," Harry answered. "But I will see them again I think. Gandalf said I should see the elves. They might be able to help me."

"I should hope so." Frodo hummed before he set about answering the door to the dreaded Sackville-Bagginses, Lobelia and her sandy-haired son, Lotho.

"Ours at last!" said Lobelia, as she stepped inside. Harry wrinkled his nose in dismay at her, pointedly staring her family down when they entered. Frodo chuckled and tugged on the back of Harry's tunic, keeping the boy beside him. Harry came at only an inch below Frodo at the very least, and not gruesomely shorter like Harry was compared to Gandalf.

Frodo, Harry, Pippin, and Sam took their tea in the kitchen. It had been announced to all that Sam was coming to Buckland "to do for Mr. Frodo (and his companion Harry) and look after his bit of garden": an arrangement that was approved by the Gaffer, though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbor. Harry couldn't agree more to that. The woman was just foul, he thought as he watched her irritable person hustle and bustle through the hobbit hole with a list to make sure everything she bought with the house was still there.

The packs were piled on the porch before Pippin took one last stroll while Sam disappeared. Frodo and Harry shared a look. "Go on and look around your home once more?" suggested Harry, remembering doing the same before he'd turned 17. The memories may not have been great growing up, but Harry had still wanted to reminiscent of his childhood. Frodo nodded and studied the home while Harry stayed outside to give him a moment. Harry was left to his thoughts.

Over a month he'd been here, away from his friends and his own world even. Was anyone looking for him? Probably… _But they were more likely looking for their savior_, he thought bitterly. He shook his head, wondering why he was so at ease with this place after dealing with untrusting characters in his life.

Perhaps because they truly could mean no harm? Or that Gandalf and Frodo had been helpful to Harry since he'd come here? He didn't know. His instincts, which he'd learned to trust over the years, told him they were trustworthy folk at any rate. This month or so had honestly been the most peaceful he'd had in years. He had three primary meals a day, not including tea time and other snacks with Frodo, and was actually filling in a little instead of the scrawny child he was. Harry sat in Frodo's garden with several books from the hobbit (and even Gandalf) to occupy his time, or he would practice his magic with Gandalf (or without him) behind the hobbit hole. Sometime he'd walk with Frodo or Sam to other parts of the Shire, helping Sam to tend the garden or other chores around the yard.

Frodo came out and informed Harry he would be taking a walk before leaving shortly. Harry watched him go with a bemused smile on his face. Why was this place so enjoyable than his own home? He knew why as he thought. No reporters. No dark lords –with the exception of Sauron—and no evil doers to fight immediately. There was a significant lack of chaotic disruption here thus far, and Harry found himself growing fond of Frodo and Gandalf (and even the other hobbits that were Frodo's friends).

Pippin came trotting over to Harry and joined him on the porch. "Good thoughts, Harry?" Pippin asked cheerfully. Harry gave Pippin a bemused look before nodding.

"You could say that," Harry replied, adjusting his pack to better hide the staff inside. Frodo came up to them not long after, looking in thought before he stepped up to them. "Sam!" called Frodo. "Sam! Time!"

"Coming, sir!" came the answer from far within Bag End, followed soon by Sam himself, wiping his mouth. Obviously he had been saying farewell to the beer-barrel in the cellar if the beer droplets were any indication. Harry grinned at the thought.

"All aboard, Sam?" said Frodo.

"Yes, sir. I'll last for a bit now, sir."

Frodo shut and locked the round door, and gave the key to Sam. "Run down with this to your home, Sam!" he said. "Then cut along the Row and meet us as quick as you can at the gate in the lane beyond the meadows. We are not going through the village tonight. Too many ears prickling and eyes prying," Harry watched Sam take the keys and run off. He was sure to be exhausted later. Shaking his head, Harry pulled the pack up onto his shoulder and looked to Frodo for direction. This was Frodo's journey, after all.

"Well, now we're off at last!" said Frodo. The other two shouldered their packs and took up their sticks –well the hobbits did anyways— and walked round the corner to the west side of Bag End. "Good-bye!" said Frodo, looking at the house. Harry paused and watched the hobbit. Frodo waved, and then turned to hurry after Harry and Peregrin down the garden-path. They jumped over the low place in the hedge at the bottom and took to the fields, passing into the darkness like a rustle in the grasses. Harry glanced back at the first place he ever laid eyes on in this world before turning back to the front, walking between the two hobbits.

They met up at their location, adjusting their straps as Sam came trotting over to them quickly, his breath labored and his pack high on his shoulders. Harry offered to take some of the weight from Sam, but was waved away on the offer.

"I am sure you have given me all the heaviest stuff," said Frodo jokingly. "I pity snails, and all that carry their homes on their backs."

Harry inclined his head. "Perhaps I could try a bit of magic to make them lighter?" he asked. Frodo gave Harry a long look, before deciding there was no harm in trying. He removed his pack and held it up to the young wizard. Harry knew Gandalf would come after him if he discovered Harry blatantly using his magic, but the hobbits covered him nicely as he withdrew his staff. And really, his magic could aid their journey more than hinder.

" _Pondor _," whispered Harry, not wanting any to hear of his incantations for reasons he knew not. (4) He tapped the end of his staff against Frodo's pack, and the hobbit blinked in surprise, clearly now wondering if the pack was even still in his hand if not for seeing his own hand holding onto the item. Harry performed the magic on the other packs before doing so to his own, smiling in triumph before he shouldered his pack with the staff returned inside.

"Truly, a wizard accompanying us was the best," Pippin said happily. "Food would be nice to magic to us, you know."

"I can't conjure food with my magic," Harry regretfully said.

"Don't be asking things more of Harry!" Frodo said sharply. "None must know he can do as he can with his magic. _No one_. Meaning no speaking of a wizard, or of tricks we cannot perform." He stressed the 'no one' to the other two who wisely nodded. Harry didn't know why hearing Frodo talk as such made him happy. Perhaps because Frodo was keeping the secret just that, a secret?

For a short way they followed the lane westwards. Then leaving it they turned left and took quietly to the fields again. They went in single file along hedgerows and the borders of coppices, and night fell dark about them. Harry felt the wind tousle his raven black locks peacefully, putting him at an ease he never felt in his travels around his own world in a race against Voldemort for the horcruxes.

In their dark cloaks Harry felt that they were quite hard to see in the night. The hobbits were easily quiet, he discovered, especially when they aimed to be silent. No one easily noticed their passing, to their relief.

After some time they crossed the water, west of Hobbiton, by a narrow plank-bridge. Harry smiled at the peaceful scene before him. Frodo gave him quiet descriptions of each place they passed. Brandywine Bridge, then Tookland, and finally the Green Hill Country. The names were no more bizarre than the Wizard world's locations, so Harry did not bother with pondering the absurd names.

As they were climbing the slopes, the hobbits looked back towards Hobbiton almost wistfully, Frodo making a small remark before they walked for three more hours, the night was clear, cool, and starry, when the group rested. Thin-clad birches, swaying in a light wind above their heads, made a black net against the pale sky. They ate a very frugal supper (for hobbits at least. Harry had no qualms with it), and then went on again. They hit Woodhall, and Stock, and even the Bucklebury Ferry soon after.

After a while they plunged into a deeply cloven track between tall trees that rustled their dry leaves in the night. It was very dark. At first they talked, or hummed a tune softly together, being now far away from inquisitive ears. Then they marched on in silence, and Pippin began to lag behind. At last as they began to climb a steep slope he stopped and yawned.

"I am so sleepy," he said, "that soon I shall fall down on the road. Are you going to sleep on your legs? It is nearly midnight."

Harry looked over at hearing Pippin speak. They would halt at the most convenient spot according to Frodo soon after; as they made their way over the top of the hill, they came to the patch of fir-wood.

Leaving the road they went into the deep darkness of the trees, and gathered dead sticks and cones to make a fire. Soon they had a merry crackle of flame at the foot of a large fi-tree and they sat round it for a while, until they began to nod. Then, each in an angle of the great tree's roots, they curled up in their cloaks and blankets, and were soon fast asleep. They set no watch; Harry, though, kept an eye out for most of the night until he drifted off. A few creatures came and looked at them when the fire had died away, scared off later on by Harry's shooing. A fox came along to look, Harry got rid of it, but not without the fox giving him a weird look. Harry decided to ignore the intelligent fox.

The morning came, pale and clammy. Frodo woke up first, and found that a tree-root had made a hole in his back, and that his neck was stiff.

"Wake up, you lot!" he cried. "It's a beautiful morning."

"What's beautiful about it?" said Pippin, peering over the edge of his blanket with one eye. "Sam! Get breakfast ready for half-past nine! Have you got the bath-water hot?"

Sam jumped up, looking rather bleary. "No, sir, I haven't, sir!" he said, stumbling. He soon realized his servant-work was not to be required at this moment.

Frodo rolled his eyes and stripped the blankets from Pippin and rolled him over, and then walked off to the edge of the wood. Harry, who had woken as soon as Frodo first spoke, shook his head before turning over with his blanket to go back to sleep. The hobbits let him as they continued to get the fire about. Frodo did shake him back awake to join them at the stream to fill the bottles of water as well as their kettle.

"I could expand them on the inside?" Harry suggested, but Frodo shook his head.

"We must not burden the chance that you could be discovered a wizard, Harry," reminded the hobbit before they trotted back. When their breakfast was over, and their packs all trussed up again (thankfully light), it was after ten o'clock, and the day was beginning to turn fine and hot. They went down the slope, and across the stream where it dived under the road, and up the next slope, and up and down another shoulder of the hills; and though time passed, thanks to Harry's spell, they did not tire as easily as they would have with heavy packs.

The day's march promised to be warm and tiring work, even with the weightless packs. After some miles, however, the road ceased to roll up and down: it climbed to the top of a steep bank in a weary zig-zagging sort of way, and then prepared to go down for the last time. In front of them they saw the lower lands dotted with small clumps of trees that melted away in the distance to a brown woodland haze. They were looking across the Woody End towards the Brandywine River.

The road wound away before them like a piece of string.

"The road goes on forever," said Pippin; "but I can't without a rest. It is high time for lunch." He sat down on the bank at the side of the road and looked away east into the haze, beyond which lay the River, and the end of the Shire in which he had spent all his life. Sam stood by him. His round eyes were wide open- for he was looking across lands he had never seen to a new horizon.

"Do Elves live in those woods?" he asked.

"Not that I ever heard," said Pippin. Frodo was silent. He too was gazing eastward along the road, as if he had never seen it before. Suddenly he spoke, aloud but as if to himself, saying slowly.

_The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with weary feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way,_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say. (5)_

"That sounds like a bit of old Bilbo's rhyming," said Pippin. "Or is it one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging." Harry had to agree, wondering if songs and poems were how hobbits amused themselves. Frodo had hummed a few in his time staying with the hobbit at Bag End.

"I don't know," said Frodo. "It came to me then, as if I was making it up; but I may have heard it long ago. Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. _'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,'_ he used to say. _'You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further and to worse places?' _He used to say that on the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk."

"Well, the Road won't sweep me anywhere for an hour at least," said Pippin, unslinging his pack. The others followed his example, putting their packs against the bank and their legs out into the road. After a rest they had a good lunch, and then more rest.

The sun was beginning to get low and the light of afternoon was on the land as they went down the hill. So far they had not met a soul on the road.

This way was not much used, being hardly fit for carts, and there was little traffic to the Woody End. They had been jogging along again for an hour or more when Sam stopped a moment as if listening. They were now on level ground, and the road after much winding lay straight ahead through grass-land sprinkled with tall trees, outliers of the approaching woods.

"I can hear a pony or a horse coming along the road behind," said Sam. They looked back, but the turn of the road prevented them from seeing far. "I wonder if that is Gandalf coming after us," said Frodo; but even as he said it, Harry had a feeling that it was not so. He was proven that his feeling was shared when Frodo looked for a hiding place.

"It may not matter much," Frodo said apologetically, "but I would rather not be seen on the road – by anyone. I am sick of my doings being noticed and discussed. And if it is Gandalf," he added as an afterthought, "we can give him a little surprise, to pay him out for being so late. Let's get out of sight!"

The other two ran quickly to the left and down into a little hollow not far from the road. There they lay flat. The sound of hoofs drew nearer. Just in time, Harry saw Frodo throw himself down in a patch of long grass behind a tree that overshadowed the road. Then he lifted his head and peered cautiously above one of the great roots.

Round the corner came a black horse, no small pony but a full-sized horse; and on it sat a large man, who seemed to crouch in the saddle, wrapped in a great black cloak and hood, so that only his boots in the high stirrups showed below; his face was shadowed and invisible.

When it reached the tree and was level with Frodo the horse stopped. The riding figure sat quite still with its head bowed, as if listening. From inside the hood came a noise as if someone were sniffing to catch an elusive scent; the head turned from side to side of the road. The rider shook the reins before trotting off ahead.

Harry turned his head in time to see Frodo crawl to the edge of the road, perhaps to watch the rider leave.

Pippin and Sam remained flat in the grass, Harry seated beside Frodo, as the ring-bearing Hobbit described the rider and of the rider's behavior.

"I can't say why, but I felt certain he was looking or _smelling_ for me; and I also felt certain that I did not want him to discover me. I've never seen or felt anything like in the Shire before."

"But what has one of the Big People got to do with us?" said Pippin. "And what is he doing in this part of the world?"

"There are some Men about," said Frodo. "Down in the Southfarthing they have had trouble with Big People, I believe. But I have never heard of anything like this rider. I wonder where he comes from."

"Begging your pardon," put in Sam suddenly, "I know where he comes from. It's from Hobbiton that this here black rider comes, unless there's more than one. And I know where he's going to."

"What do you mean?" said Frodo sharply, looking at him in astonishment. Harry wondered where this was going.

"Why didn't you speak up before?"

"I have only just remembered, sir. It was like this: when I got back to our hole yesterday evening with the key, my dad, he says to me…"

Harry listened as Sam talked about the rider inquiring of Frodo's location, a feeling of dread in his stomach. So these riders, there were after Frodo and the ring after all.

"…We ought to do a good step more today. Buckland is still miles away. Harry, all is well?"

"Hmm…? Yes, all is well," Harry answered, glancing up to see the hobbits ready to leave once more. They set out again, only a bit from the road. The new path gave them the disadvantage of thick grass and uneven ground, making the walk much harder to manage.

Twilight was about them as they crept back to the lane, feeling safer in the mid-sunlight. The hobbits began to hum a walking-song of sorts, making Harry curious of their lyrics. Frodo explained absently that Bilbo had made the words, to an older tune long ago when he took his own adventure.

_Upon the hearth the fire is red,_

_Beneath the roof there is a bed;_

_But not yet weary are our feet,_

_Still round the corner we may meet_

_A sudden tree or standing stone_

_That none have seen but we alone._

_Tree and flower and leaf and grass,_

_Let them pass! Let them pass!_

_Hill and water under sky,_

_Pass them by! Pass them by!_

_Still round the corner there may way_

_A new road or a secret gate,_

_And though we pass them by today,_

_Tomorrow we may come this way_

_And take the hidden paths that run_

_Towards the Moon or to the Sun._

_Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,_

_Let them go! Let them go!_

_Sand and stone and pool and dell,_

_Fare you well! Fare you well!_

_Home is behind, the world ahead, _

_And there are many paths to tread_

_Through shadows to the edge of night,_

_Until the stars are all alight._

_Then world behind and home ahead,_

_We'll wonder back to home and bed. _

_Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,_

_Away shall fade! Away shall fade!_

_Fire and lamps, and meat and bread,_

_And then to bed! And then to bed! (6)_

"And now to bed! And now to bed!" sang Pippin a high voice.

"You hobbits have the strangest songs," Harry commented just as Frodo started to hush them. The group halted where they were and stood silent, listening. Harry could faintly pick up the sound of hoofs, but slower and clear down the wind. They immediately went off to hide once more, with Frodo warning them not to plow too far from the road. The hoofs drew nearer just as they were hiding under the tree. Sam and Pippin chose behind a large tree-bole, while Frodo crept back a few yards towards the lane. Harry followed the hobbit closely enough so he could see. He could just make out something dark pass the lighter space between two trees before halting. There was the sound of snuffling, before the shadow bent to the ground and crawl towards the two of them.

Harry turned to beckon Frodo back only to see him groping the ring's keeping place. He reached to stop the hobbit when they were broken off through the laughter and song. Harry breathed in relief when Frodo withdrew his hand before they met back up with the other two. Sam tried to make a break for the Elves, if not for their quick reflexes stopping him via pulling the boisterous and star-struck hobbit back. Harry quietly laughed at Sam's reaction to the Elves.

"What about the Elves?" said Sam, too excited to trouble about the rider. "Can't we go and see them?"

"Listen! They are coming this way," said Frodo. "We have only to wait."

Wait they did little of, for the singing drew nearer. One clear voice rose now above the others. It was singing in a foreign language, one Harry couldn't comprehend. However, the sound blending with the melody seemed to shape itself in their thoughts into words which they only partly understood. Harry gave seldom thought to the lyrics, and just relaxed with the tune.

"These are High Elves! They spoke the name of Elbereth!" said Frodo, clearly amazed, "Few of that fairest folk are ever seen in the Shire. Not many now remain in Middle-earth, east of the Great Sea. This is indeed a strange chance!"

The hobbits and Harry sat in shadow by the wayside. Before long the Elves came down the lane towards the valley. They passed slowly, and the hobbits could see the starlight glimmering on their hair and in their eyes. They bore no lights, yet as they walked a shimmer, like the light of the moon above the rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet. They were now silent, and as the last Elf passed he turned and looked towards the hobbits and laughed.

"Hail, Frodo!" he cried. "You are abroad late. Or are you perhaps lost?" Then he called aloud to the others and all the company stopped and gathered round.

"This is indeed wonderful!" they said. "Four hobbits in a wood at night! We have not seen such a thing since Bilbo went away. What is the meaning of it?"

"Four hobbits?" Harry asked with a strange look before comprehension dawned that he was hidden partially in shadow, and that his height near them might confuse his being as a hobbit. He glanced at the Elves who looked toward him, realizing his error in speaking aloud. It might have been better had he said he was indeed a hobbit.

One of the Elves looked closer, gasping as he realized he stared into the eyes of a child, not a hobbit. He opened his mouth to speak, only to have Frodo interrupt.

"The meaning of it, fair people," said Frodo, "is simply that we seem to be going the same way as you are. I like walking under the stars. But I would welcome your company." The Elves responded with laughter, only partially forgetting the child, before Frodo managed to get their leader's name from them. Harry repeated the name back to himself in his head. Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod. What a mouthful. But they came from Rivendell, which was where he must go to possibly return home, and where Frodo would be headed.

Frodo and the Elves talked of the Black Riders, lulling Harry with the conversation that came forth. He did his best to listen, but exhaustion crept into him and he rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Gildor glanced at the tired lad and turned to speak to his kindred folk in their native tongue. Finally, he turned back.

"We will not speak of this here," he said. "We think you had best come now with us. The child you bring with is weary. It is not our custom, but for this time we will take you on our road, and you shall lodge with us tonight, if you will."

"Of Fair Folk! This is good fortune beyond my hope," said Pippin. Sam was speechless, too much in awe. Frodo, meanwhile, bowed and thanked Gildor for his hospitality. Harry rubbed at his eyes, unable to say anything except emitting yawns. His body was worn from the constant days travel at any rate, and he hoped not to have to walk just yet.

He nearly groaned when Gildor spoke of crossing the woods on the hills above some place named Woodhall. Another set of miles, he knew. He staggered to his feet and reached out to balance himself, his hand pushing against Frodo who steadied his companion.

"Weary already, I see," laughed Frodo.

"I did not realize until I sat," Harry mumbled. Gildor sidled up to them as they began walking. He studied the child and Harry looked at him in return, stifling his yawns.

"Will you allow me to carry you, young one? You seem too weary to continue walking," Gildor requested, a small smile gracing his lips that Harry had rarely seen directed at him. Mrs. Weasley was the most likely to give him that face, as would Sirius, but if anyone else did he couldn't recall. He considered the matter before taking a leap of faith in his decision –he nodded at the Elf.

Gildor knelt down and slid his elegantly long arms towards Harry. Gentle, yet firm, hands cupped his armpits and lifted him clean into the air with little struggle. Harry tensed slightly before settling as he was seated on the Elf's hip for comfort. His smaller arms draped across Gildor's broad shoulders. His legs dangled, inclined towards the Elf's waist as he yawned once more.

"At ease?" the Elf asked. Harry nodded, letting his head fall against Gildor's shoulder and his emerald green eyes fluttered close. The rocking of Gildor's walking soothed him and he soon found himself drifting off every now and then. He would wake to hear snippets of conversation, but otherwise moved very little in their walk.

After a long while, Harry awoke slightly to notice he was being set upon a soft bed. He shifted, turning his head, to find himself facing another Elf. 'When had he been passed to him?' he wondered drowsily. The Elf noticed his wakening and smiled gently, a look similar to the one directed at him earlier. Harry rubbed at his eyes.

"Sleep, child. You need not to wake upon this eve," soothed the musical voice. Harry decided that sleep seemed of the essence and nodded, his eyes fluttering close once more. He had no dreams that night.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

1) **Setting is a time skip, or beginning of the setting for me in this story. There are quite a handful of them, but I thought them better than lines or line breaks somewhere. Those tend to bore me anyways. **

2) **This can be found in Chapter two of The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkein. A simple quotation of the Elf-lore spoke about the ring. **

3) **Harry is still 17 years of age, but his body has become similar to what you can imagine an Elfling. He will only grow for every four years. So that when he is 20, he will look five. I know, that makes no sense whatsoever, but I felt it more prudent to pull this than to give him an age at random.**

4) _**Pondor**_** – The Latin translation of weightless. I decided to incorporate Harry's magic into this because honestly, it's a crossover. Not just Harry in Lord of the Rings like I did before. **

5) **This can be found in Chapter three of The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkein. The saying from Frodo.**

6) **Same as Footnote 5. **

**Author's Note: ****I had a lot of fun this time around, trying to incorporate different elements that you never saw before with Ring Child's original version, nor Emerald Istar. I tried this attempt with a lot more knowledge of Lord of the Rings than I had before. Several rereading and rewriting had to take place in this case for me to finally be satisfied with the prologue that would now set the tone for a grander story. I was roughly 15, maybe 16, when I wrote the first version perhaps? I am currently 20, not that this changes things, but two years of college under my belt has certainly brought my grammar to evolve. Happy readings this time around! While this was meant to be posted in February earlier this year, I ran into a lot of problems and eventually lost the flash drive that carried all of my writing for this fanfiction on. I've recovered it and everything is back on track. I will probably only update once a month or every other month. That will depend on if real life tries to pull me away again! Happy Reading everyone.**


	2. The Journey Unknown

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. J.R.R Tolkein owns LOTR and J.K. Rowling owns HP. I am merely the original fanfiction author to the formerly popular story, _Ring Child_ (HPxLOTR). Should you recognize passages from either HP or LOTR, then simply refer it to yourself as an excerpt from either literary work. I will occasionally be using Tolkein's work almost word for word in some areas so that the wondrous descriptions and talk he gave in his writing is not muddied up by my attempts. This is not for monetary value nor anything other than entertainment to a fanfiction world. So do not judge on the basis of recognizing Tolkein's words. I do not claim them as mine.

**Warnings: **There is the occasional **swearing** and **violence** to be mentioned in this story, but the fluff should more than outweigh this tidbit. The more major warning is that both stories are heavily **spoiled** by this story, as I have read both of them to the best of my abilities. Therefore, do not waste your time criticizing my lack of information mentioned or not mentioned. I was not a terribly immediate fan of the Lord of the Rings series, but I do like the books and movies nonetheless.

Chapter Two "**The Journey Unknown**"

* * *

**Setting (1): **The Path to BuckleBerry. September of 3018

The sun rose in greeting to the travelling group, rising Harry from his slumber. Giving himself a few moments to fully wake up, he heard the familiar voices of two particular hobbits. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked blearily in the direction that they were coming from.

"Good morning Harry!" Pippin said immediately, halting in anything he might have been saying to one Samwise Gamgee. The two hobbits were nestled on the grass by a crackling fire, fruits and bread tucked neatly in a makeshift basket of a sorts. Harry had the idle thought that this might be what real camping was like, without magical tents that became houses inside and wands that conjured rocks into plates.

"Morning," Harry yawned, bringing a hand up to scratch at his black locks while he sat up. "Where's Frodo?" The hobbit wasn't anywhere he could see directly, nor were the elves he remembered meeting last night.

"Still asleep, the lazy hobbit," Pippin snorted before trotting over to a lump lying in a bower with a bed of fern and grass. No sooner had he begun to head towards the supposed sleeping hobbit, did Frodo awake and give Pippin an unimpressed expression.

"They have left us fruit and drink, and bread," said Pippin. "Come and have your breakfast. The bread tastes almost as good as it did last night. I did not want to leave you any, nor Harry any, but Sam insisted."

"Very unwise to let a child starve, Pippin," Sam scolded, handing Harry breakfast as Frodo sat down to eat. Pippin gave off a childish grin. Harry nibbled on the bread and was surprised that it tasted very well made.

"What is the plan for today?" asked Pippin.

"To walk to Bucklebury as quickly as possible," answered Frodo, and continued eating. Harry did the same and found himself full after eating half of his meal. He pushed it aside where Sam scooped it up for him.

"Full already?" Sam asked, unsurprised. The child-sized wizard had neglected larger meals that the hobbits had cooked and lavished him with time and time again, to their disappointment. Harry had laughed that they were the only creatures to enjoy food that much, and that his kind weren't even into meals as they were. In his small stature, Harry wasn't surprised that his appetite was similar to when he lived with the Dursleys.

"Yes, probably," said Frodo with a shudder. "But I hope to get across the river without their seeing us."

"Did you find out anything about them from Gildor?"

"Gildor?" Harry asked, eyebrows arched before he shook his head. "Right, right. Now I remember. Sorry, I was very tired last night."

"That you were, Harry. Tuckered out enough that the elves merrily carried you as you slumbered," hummed Frodo before answering. "Not much – only hints and riddles." Something about his tone sounded off. "Now leave me in peace for a bit. I don't want to answer a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!"

"Good heavens!" said Pippin. "At breakfast?" Voice laced with a joking tone mixed with indignity, Pippin walked away towards the edge of the green. Sam finished up clearing away their belongings while glancing at Frodo every now and then. Harry got up to see what Pippin was up to when the hobbit started running on the green turf and singing.

"Come join in the fun, dear lad," Pippin sang in a merry voice. Harry laughed and shook his head, reminded of Fred and George during their moments of mischief. Pippin did not look very discouraged, however, and continued to chime along to his own tune as he waltzed. Harry's eye caught movement and he turned to spy Frodo turning towards Sam.

"Well, Sam!" Frodo said. "What about it? I am leaving the Shire as soon as ever I can – in fact I have made up my mind now not even to wait a day at Crickhollow, if it can be helped."

"Very good, sir!" Harry wondered how Sam could sound so much like a lost puppy, the way he eagerly replied and yipped at Frodo's voice.

"You still mean to come with me?" Frodo adopted a surprised look that Harry could sympathize with.

"I do." Harry caught Frodo's eye at Sam's proclamation, the formerly famous wizard shrugging his shoulders. This was all Frodo's adventure. Harry was just along for the ride in his own opinion. Doing this for Gandalf was part of the deal he'd made with the Istar.

"Yes… Although it is going to be very dangerous. It is already dangerous. Most likely we shall never come back. I wouldn't allow Harry to join me, but alas Gandalf had taken me to matters on that issue, with such explanations that were almost as bad as the elves." Harry had to allow a grin to slip upon his face at that. Gandalf had chipped away at all of Frodo's arguments against bringing a child until the hobbit had been left flustering and spluttering in annoyance. "Most likely we shan't come back."

"If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain," said Sam before adopting a different tone. "_Don't you leave him!_ They said to me. _Leave him! _I said. _I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon, and if any of those Black Riders try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, _I said. They laughed."

"Who are _they,_ and what are you talking about?"

"The Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and they seemed to know you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying it. Wonderful folk, Elves, sir! Wonderful! Have you any Elves where came you, Harry?"

"Oh, yes… Only they're called house elves." Caught off guard, Harry answered honestly.

"House elves?" echoed Sam, bewilderment on his face. Harry nodded.

"They cleaned up and cooked for their masters, bound by magic to wizards and witches." Harry cringed as he remembered Hermione's long rants and lectures about such terrible culture house elves suffered through. Dobby had liked to clean, even when free, however. So not all house elves were opposed to the slavery condition they were put in.

"Do you feel any need to leave the Shire now – now that your wish to see the Elves has come true already?" Frodo asked before Sam could comment any further.

"Yes sir," Sam nodded. "I don't know how to say it, but after last night I feel different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind of way. I know we are going to take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can't turn back. It isn't to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that I want – I don't rightly know what I want; but I have something to do before the end, and it lies ahead, not in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me."

"I don't altogether. But I understand that Gandalf chose me a good companion. Well two good companions. I am content. We will go together. The three of us." Frodo finished his breakfast as he said as such. Harry looked away and turned his gaze back to the cheerfully chirping Pippin. The three of them. Much like Hermione, Ron, and he.

Frodo stood up and called to Pippin to join them.

"All ready to start?" he said as Pippin ran up. "We must be getting off at once. We slept late; and there are a good many miles to go."

"_You_ slept late, you mean," Pippin accused with a grin. "I was up long before; and we were only waiting for you to finish eating and thinking."

"I have finished both now. And I am going to make for Bucklebury Ferry as quickly as possible. I am not going out of the way, back to the road we left last night: I am going to cut straight across country from here."

"Then you are going to fly, or have Harry somehow teleport you," said Pippin. "You won't cut straight on foot anywhere in this country."

"We can cut straighter than the road anyway," answered Frodo. "The Ferry is east from Woodhall; but the hard road curves away to the left –you can see a bend of it away north over there. It goes round the north end of the Marish so as to strike the causeway from the Bridge above Stock. But that is miles out of the way. We could save a quarter of the distance if we made a line for the Ferry from where we stand."

"_Short cuts make long delays,_" argued Pippin. "The country is rough round here, and there are bogs and all kinds of difficulties down in the Marish –I know the land in these parts. And if you are worrying about Black Riders, I can't see that it is any worse meeting them on a road than in a wood or a field."

"It is less easy to find people in the woods and fields," answered Frodo. "And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that you will be looked for on the road and not off it."

"All right!" said Pippin, tossing his hands up into the air. "I will follow you into every bog and ditch. But it is hard! I had counted on passing the _Golden Perch_ at Stock before sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it." Harry snorted. Of course the hobbit would be desiring alcohol. That seemed to be one of their obsessions besides food, he noted.

"That settles it!" said Frodo. "Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones. At all costs we must keep you away from the _Golden Perch_. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam? Harry?"

"I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. Harry nodded in his agreement.

"Then if we are going to toil through bog and briar, let's go now!" said Pippin.

It was already warming up; but rain was foreboding upon the clouds that began to cover from the West. Harry hoped it wasn't about to rain. He had no desire to be soaked to the bone here. Although a drying charm might allow for that problem to be solved, he supposed. It would leave him exhausted, however.

The hobbits and wizard scrambled down a steep green bank and plunged into the thick trees below. Their course had been chosen to leave Woodhall to their left, and to cut slanting through the woods that clustered along the eastern side of the hills, until they reached the flats beyond. Straight for the Ferry afterwards.

They were soon at an undergrowth with no visible path, a stream running down from the hills behind in a dug bed. They halted, unable to jump over a wide stream or cross at all without getting wet, scratched, and muddy.

"First check!" said Pippin, smiling grimly.

"Look!" Sam said, clutching Frodo by the arm. Harry tuned and spotted on the edge quite a distance above them was a horse standing against the sky. Beside it stooped a black figure. Harry realized just how close they would have come to being found out again. Bugger… Frodo began to head quickly into the thick bushes, the others following him. There was no turning back now.

* * *

**Setting: **Brandy Hall, of the Brandybucks.

"Look back, Mr. Frodo! Do you see anything?"

On the far stage, under the distant lamps, the hobbits and Harry could just make out a figure: it looked like a dark black bundle left behind. But as they looked it seemed to move and sway this way and that, as if searching the ground.

"What in the Shire is that?" exclaimed Merry, who had joined them on their journey some short hours ago on the way to the Ferry after they had lost sight of the other rider. (1)

"Something that is following us," said Frodo abruptly. "But don't ask any more now! Let's get away at once!" As they hurried up the path to the top of the bank, Harry lingered in the back, hand itching for his staff, though he longed for a small wand that he could slip into the sleeves of his shirt again. For now, his magical item rest neatly in his pack that was still light thanks to his earlier spell-casting.

The figure disappeared from sight in part to the mist and Harry heaved a sigh of relief, grateful the thing hadn't spotted and pursued them. While he had his magic, it wasn't as effective with how little he could actually cast in his small body.

"Thank goodness you don't keep any boats on the west-bank!" said Frodo as he shook his head.

"Can horses cross the river?"

"They can go twenty miles north to Brandywine Bridge – or they might swim," answered Merry. "Though I never heard of any horse swimming the Brandywine. But what have horses to do with it?"

"I'll tell you later. Let's get indoors and then we can talk."

"All right! You and Pippin know your way; so I'll just ride on and tell Fatty Bolger that you are coming. We'll see about supper and things."

"We had our supper early with Farmer Maggot," said Frodo, "but we could do with another." Harry snorted at this.

"Hobbits and their appetite," Harry said with a small grin as the hobbits turned to him. Merry gave him a friendly, agreeing smile, before turning back.

"You shall have it! Off I go, if you shall hand over the basket!" said Merry, and he rode ahead into the darkness. Harry shook his head at their antics before following Frodo, Pippin, and Sam off towards Crickhollow, where Frodo's new home would be located.

At last Frodo stopped in front of a narrow gate nearly hidden by a thick hedge. There were no other homes near this house either: it stood back from the lane plotted in the middle of land that was surrounded by a belt of low trees. Harry was reminded of the faraway home of the Weasley residence, where land stretched out for quite a while before they could access their own neighbors.

The round windows and large round door reminded Harry of a barrel as he gazed at the hobbit-hole. Walking up the dark pathway, Frodo reached the door before them and knocked, and Fatty Bolger opened it.

The wide hall that they found themselves in reminded Harry much of Frodo's home in Bag End of the Shire.

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Merry coming up the passage. "We have done our best in a short time to make it look like home. After all Fatty and I only got here with the last cart-load yesterday." Harry gazed at some of the things he'd looked at while in the Shire, smiling at how much of an effort the hobbits had gone to help Frodo. Hermione and Ron would have done the same thing in this situation, he knew. Or rather, they would have accompanied him like Pippin and Sam had done. Mrs. Weasley might have been the one to pack up everything and arrange it for him, now that he thought about it.

"It's delightful!" Frodo said, sounding strained. "I hardly feel that I have moved at all."

Harry didn't immediately remove his cloak, or set down his pack as the others did. He heard them follow Merry down a passage and he took this time to make sure Fatty wasn't in his vicinity before pulling out his staff.

The magical item reached from the tips of his fingers to his elbow in length, a darkening brown wood that shined in the right kind of lighting. Turning it in his grasp, the small-sized wizard held it before him and tried to recall some of the spells Hermione had used during their travels for the Horcruxes. His magic worked here, oddly enough, but it felt like it was being pulled through a very small tunnel that it could barely fit, leaving him panting after the first warning spell left the tip of his staff. He had to stop, sighing. At least he'd be alerted if someone stepped foot near the gate, but that'd be it as far as spells went it seemed.

Deciding he'd try again later tonight, Harry headed into the kitchen where Merry and Fatty were preparing the last pieces of their supper, the sound of Pippin bickering with Frodo and Sam playfully as they were clearly bathing out of sight.

"You'll be able to clean up after those three get done with their childish fun," Merry said kindly. Harry offered him a smile in return, pulling himself onto one of the chairs while the voice of Pippin flooded the room from the bathing chambers.

_Sing hey! For the bath at close of day_

_That washes the weary mud away!_

_A loon is he that will not sing:_

_O! Water Hot is a noble thing!_

_O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,_

_And the brook that leaps from hill to plain;_

_But better than rain or rippling streams_

_Is Water Hot that smokes and steams._

_O! Water cold we may pour at need_

_Down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;_

_But better is Beer, if drank we lack,_

_And Water Hot poured down the back._

_O! Water is fair that leaps on high_

_In a fountain white beneath the sky;_

_But never did fountain sound so sweet_

_As splashing Hot Water with my feet! (2)_

Harry shook his head at the sound of a large splashing and an exclamation from Frodo. They were quite entertaining in their ways, he had to admit. Frodo reappeared in the kitchen with a fresh towel over his head, his hands drying at his hair.

"There's so much water in the air that I'm coming into the kitchen to finish," he said as he walked towards Harry. "If you wish to wade your way through Pippin's disaster, then by all means have at the attempt, Harry."

"I'll pass," Harry said, shaking his head.

"You would do well with a bath before the next journey, at any rate," Frodo argued quietly. Harry thought about it and sighed in consent. Hopping out of his seat, he made his way into the bathroom where Pippin was finishing up cleaning the room at Merry's demand.

"We will wait for you to finish, Harry," Merry said.

"No need. I might be a bit, so eat before me, please," Harry told the hobbit who gave him a look before nodding. Harry tugged his cloak off his person before slipping into the bath. He honestly preferred a nice shower, but he knew by now that he wouldn't get such a thing in this place.

The water was pleasantly warm and soothing, he found. Soaking in the tub for a bit, he could vaguely hear the chattering hobbits as his head rested against the edge, a small hand coming up to his face with a thoughtful frown marring his cherubic face as he spied the faint tendrils of words along the back of his hand. _I must not tell lies_ written on the pale hand. The hobbits hadn't seemed to have noticed some of the scars traced along his body, though this was in part because he'd never let them see anything underneath his clothing. They were ignorant of his turmoil, much likes the wizardry world had been. (3)

Would he ever return home?

Frodo and the others had been quite a welcoming change, he supposed, but he missed the place he'd made his home. However faulty the wizardry society could be, it was where he lived. The place his parents lived in as well…

Gandalf told him, if he followed Frodo along and protected him to Rivendell, he might be able to find a solution. Might being the keyword. He could hope, but he couldn't dream of it happening, he knew. Harry shook his head and finished washing before he climbed out of the tub and dried off.

Wet black hair stuck up pitifully as he toweled it dry, frowning in annoyance before he simply got dressed in fresh clothing provided by Merry. He supposed being among Hobbits was something to be appreciated, with his new size. He would fit in with his height, but the baby face wizard would stick out in features and the nice black shoes Harry had managed to conjure after about a week's stay in Middle Earth already.

"…I should think you were making it all up," Merry was saying as Harry stepped into the kitchen to take his own meal. The hobbits glanced over at him before returning to their story-telling, knowing he would tend to his food without assistance. After scooping a portion of green beans, potatoes, and some sort of main dish he was unaccustomed to, he grabbed an apple from the basket nearby. Taking a bite of his acquired apple, he turned his attention to them to listen, sitting in the kitchen while they discussed in an open room.

"Well!" said Frodo suddenly, causing Harry to blink as the burdened hobbit stood up and popped his back. "I can't keep it dark any longer. I have got something to tell you all. But I don't know quite how to begin."

"I think I could help you by telling you some of it myself," said Merry. Harry gave Merry a surprised look, coming to join them with the half-eaten apple in his hand. Sam shot him a disproving look for leaving his meal unattended, but said nothing. "You are miserable, because you don't know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come on you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you."

Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud at the look of surprise on Frodo's face, the others doing much the same to show their amusement. "He has a very good point, Frodo." Harry laughed. "You talked out loud about your worries quite often."

Frodo flustered. "Good heavens! Is all the Shire discussing my departure then?"

"Oh no! Don't worry about that! The secret won't keep for long, of course; but at present it is, I think, only known to us conspirators." Harry shook his head, musing to himself about a similar situation. Hermione and Ron had been afraid he'd leave without telling them, keeping an awfully close eye on him after Dumbledore's passing.

Dumbledore.

He wondered what his former mentor would have thought of all this; one next adventure. He knew Hermione would've been in complete ecstasy, seeing so many foreign histories and stories told and shared here. Ron would've probably gotten along fantastic with the hobbits and their constant mealtimes.

He'd like to think his best friends would have journeyed this odd and fantastical adventure with him, just as they had done during his school years.

Shaking his head, he finally turned his head from his thinking to listen to the last bit of the songs the hobbits were singing.

_We must away! We must away!_

_We ride before the break of day!_

"Gildor advised me not to wait. But I should very much like to see Gandalf. I could see that even Gildor was disturbed when he heard that Gandalf had never appeared. It really depends on two things. How soon could the Riders get to Bucklebury? And how soon could we get off? It will take a good deal of preparation."

Merry answered Frodo's question, revealing just how prepared he'd been in his conspiracy-filled thoughts. Harry smiled at the familiar scene. Only he'd remembered a bushy-haired female lecturing him on packing up for their horcrux trip.

"You remind me of Hermione," Harry absently said.

"What is a Hermy on ninny? I do not know whether I should be pleased or offended with your term, Harry," Merry asked, looking scandalized. Harry blinked.

"Ah… She was a friend of mine, always prepared for anything," he went on to explain, trying not to laugh at Merry's abashed look.

"I apologize. Your manner of speaking is something of a queer language in many ways," Merry said.

"As does yours," Harry countered.

"I have made up my mind," Frodo interrupted, shaking his head at their words. "I am starting tomorrow, as soon as it is light. But I mean to go off in a quite unexpected direction, through the Old Forest. Now let us rest up! We leave at quite an early moment in the day that you need to sleep well before us, Harry."

As he headed for one of the bedrooms at their insistence, Harry couldn't help but wonder if it would be anything like the Forbidden Forest, grimacing at the thought.

* * *

**Setting: **The Old Forest

Fatty Bolger stayed behind, waving them off as the four hobbits and one wizard stole quietly out of the house at half past four in the morning. Harry couldn't stop his yawning, nearly stumbling as he walked with them towards the ponies.

"Have you ridden a horse?" Merry asked the wizard child as they prepared to mount.

"I have ridden a creature called a thestral and it is much in the same manner I suppose," he answered, eying the pony he'd been given before he mounted it, grateful that he was travelling with the hobbits in his new size. He still didn't understand what deity had managed to catch him unawares, throw him into a world not his own, and shrink his body down to the same stature as when he was this small, but he was at least grateful he was currently in company where size did not matter.

"Good-bye, Frodo! Everyone!" he said. "I wish you were not going into the Forest. I only hope you will not need rescuing before the day is out. But good luck to you – today and every day!"

Harry tuned the conversation out, focusing on his pony as they made their way to a gate of iron bars. Merry unlocked the gate and allowed them passage before he closed it once more, following along. As the gate shut with a clang, Harry looked back at it, wondering just what adventure awaited the four hobbits and he.

Towards the wide hollow, Harry glanced around as they did, itching to hold onto his staff as they did. Gandalf had asked he not commit magic, but what was the point of having such an ability if they could not use it for helping purposes? He supposed Gandalf knew these lands better than he did, so he would trust the old wizard.

The trees were quite diverse, he noted as the rode on. All sorts going in different directions and colored with slight variations of brown, greens, and grey of growths and moss. Harry wrinkled his nose slightly, unused to the sights. They had to avoid quite a lot of roots that twisted into their path often, but they were otherwise moving at a steady enough pace.

Without warning, there was a sharp cry from the youngest hobbit. "Oi! Oi!" Pippin cried. "I am not going to do anything. Just let me pass through, will you!"

Harry jerked at the cry, looking over at the hobbit. The cry did not echo into the woods as he expected, and the feeling of being watched and surrounded grew. He narrowed his eyes, looking around.

"I should not shout, if I were you," Merry said. "It does more harm than good."

"Why do I feel paranoia here?" Harry asked.

"Para… what?" Frodo asked, blinking.

"How is that I feel as if I am surrounded and watched?" corrected Harry, shaking his head. Frodo gave him an apologetic look.

"The forest is alive, as many of them are," Merry answered for him. Harry nodded in understanding. It was a queer feeling, he supposed, to experience constant vigilance because of watching trees. Magic worked in such odd ways in this world.

"These trees _do_ shift. There is the Bonfire Glade! The path to it seems to have moved however!" Merry continued, pointing towards a particular spot.

They continued to travel, a fog growing quite deeply and trees constantly blocking their path. Harry felt as if he was confounded as they rode on, constantly wondering if they were going in the same direction or towards somewhere new.

Quite suddenly, Harry felt as if the gloom dispersed immediately. Sunlight beamed down as he spied a lazy river of brown water with willows spotting the area. Merry gave an exclamation of relief and it seemed he knew where they were, disappearing into the trail ahead and returning with news that a footpath could be found along the side of the river.

"I dare say!" said Pippin, annoyed. "That is, if the track goes on so far, and does not simply lead us into a bog and leave us there. Who made the track, do you suppose, and why? I am sure it was not for our benefit. Have you any idea how far eastward we should have to go?"

"No," admitted Merry, "I haven't. I don't know in the least how far down the Withywindle we are, or who could possibly come here often enough to make a path along it. But there is no other way out that I can see or think of."

That said, they filed out of the entrance of the sunlight and continued to ride. As they went on and on, getting hopelessly lost and tired, Harry's eyes caught sight of something and he parted from their group to examine the trees that the hobbits were ignoring. Brushing a hand against its bark, he felt as if they were rabid dogs, wary of these travelers and their business here.

Frowning, he decided best to withdraw his staff, curious as to what he could do. Gandalf had told him of elves, back when the wizard and he had discussions of their worlds, and he knew elves could talk to trees. Was it some sort of magic? Were trees a creature here?

As he was busy with the tree, he looked up and his stomach churned when he noted he could no longer see his companions. He turned his head left and right, finding nothing but nature surrounding him.

'_Bullocks_,' he swore as he turned the pony in different directions to find where they had gone. '_Nice going Harry… Lose your only way out of this barmy forest_.'

Giving up on his tree expedition, he roamed the forest with comprehension for what felt like an hour or two before the vague calling of an unfamiliar voice got his attention. His eyes widened and he strained to hear it better.

_Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a gong dillo!_

Harry blinked and looked around for the voice, deciding to take a left. He looked down and nearly jumped for joy when he spotted hoof prints from the ponies his companions rode on. "Come on, pony," he murmured, giving it a tug to spur the creature into riding, the voice from earlier sounding only the slightest bit more clearer.

_Ring a dong! Hop along! Fal la the willow!_

_Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!_

Tom Bombadillo? Harry snorted at such a name before following the voice along, finding it clearer as he went forward. Squinting his eyes, emerald orbs spotted a figure dancing and hopping, wearing a hat of some sort with a feather sticking straight up.

"Help!" came Frodo's familiar voice. Harry sat up straighter and urged the pony onward, eventually arriving in time to see this Tom Bombadillo character seizing a foot from a giant willow tree and tugging the owner of the foot out. Out sprang Pippin and Merry, to Harry's astonishment. What had happened in the time he'd disappeared?

"Thank you!" said the hobbits, one after the other. They were practically bowing in gratitude towards this large man that looked five times their size.

The man burst out laughing for some reason, making the young wizard narrow his eyes, dropping off from the pony in favor of crouching closer without giving himself away. He knelt in the growing nestle of bushes near a willow tree, eying it idly to make sure it didn't eat him as the other one had done to his hobbit companions.

"Well, my little fellows!" said he, stooping so that he could look at the hobbits. "You shall come home with me!" The hobbits looked set to follow along, little else to stop them, when Frodo's head looked up suddenly. He looked worried.

"Wait!" burst out Frodo, looking around wildly. "Where is Harry?"

"Harry?" puzzled Tom, looking around as if he might spot a fifth hobbit that he'd failed to rescue. Harry debated on what he should do before he sighed and moved into their sight.

"Ah… Here I am, Frodo!" Harry called, knowing the hobbit would continue to search for him if he did not show himself. Tom gave him a wide smile, making Harry feel on edge, but at the same time relaxed. He came trotting over to the small boy and knelt down.

"A small child! How very different than finding four hobbits on their own! Why, look at you." Tom seemed to crow, leaning forward and instantly bringing his hands under Harry's arms to lift him clean into the air and situate him on his hip. Harry turned red on his warming cheeks and squirmed, trying to yank his body out of the man's arms.

"Unhand me!" He tried to protest, pushing his hands hard against the chest to get free.

"We've a long ways towards my home! No youngling could make such a journey on foot without dire need of rest," Tom said with a 'parental' tone of a sorts that irritated Harry. This man seemed to be doing it not for his convenience, but for Tom's entertainment. Harry groaned. If this man was any indication of how others, that were not hobbits, were going to treat him, he'd prefer to go back to Hobbiton.

As Tom took over in a leap and a sprint of laughter, Harry clung onto the man's top tightly. He looked down at the ground and wished he wasn't being carried, for he could clearly see a good ways down if he was dropped. A concussion didn't look too pleasant at this very moment.

Merlin he wished he was back at the Burrow by now.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**1. I skipped the tidbit about crossing the Farmer's area and meeting up with Merry there.**

**2. Can be found in Chapter Five of LOTR.**

**3. He has the scars of any he retained until the day he departed that world. This may or may not be explained later. Just as why and how he was shrunk may or may not be explained later.**

**Author's Note: The first chapter was so very long because it was my prologue of a sorts. So I'm sorry this one is half its length. This chapter had chapters four through six in them. You'll find very little changes in this chapter than the canon storyline because Harry's not meant to completely change everything. If he did that, we'd never know what else could change as a result! I may or may not skip Chapter Seven featuring Tom's house, but I might go towards Chapter 8. Let me know what scenes in particular you're very much wanting to see because if I find them unimportant, I might skip them entirely! See you next month! Lol**


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